


All the Water in the Rough Rude Sea

by angevin2



Category: Richard II - Shakespeare
Genre: Awkward Boners, General Cluelessness, M/M, Sexy Medieval Bathing, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1238509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angevin2/pseuds/angevin2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing more awkward than politics is unrequited lust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Water in the Rough Rude Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tenderheartedcousin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderheartedcousin/gifts).



> I had the 2013-14 RSC production in my head when I wrote this (David Tennant as Richard, Oliver Rix as Aumerle), but there's nothing in the fic that's really specific to it, with the possible exception of Richard's hair. Also, the bit about checking everyone's equipment for enchanted objects was a legitimate part of the trial-by-combat process in the Middle Ages (cf. also the business with the green girdle in _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_ ).

It is more than a little uncomfortable, when one has recently been appointed Constable of England, to have to preside over the investigation of the death of one's predecessor.

This is particularly the case when the investigation is largely ceremonial to begin with. It's more or less an open secret who was responsible, and the _reason_ that it's an open secret is that the King was behind the whole thing anyway. Which is _how_ Edward of Aumerle came to be Constable of England in the first place.

Edward suspects that it says nothing good about his priorities, then, that none of these things make him quite so uncomfortable as the fact that when Richard sends for him for an update on the impending trial by combat he's sitting in the bath.

It makes it extremely difficult to concentrate.

"…the lists are prepared, and everyone's having their equipment checked for prayers and enchantments," he's saying, trying to ignore how the room smells of sage and chamomile or how the bathwater glistens on Richard's skin. He hasn't been very successful, thus far.

Richard laughs. "Well, you don't need to stand all the way over there," he says, extending a ridiculously beautiful hand in Edward's direction. He turns his head in the direction of his attendants. "You can go," he says to them, and they bow and depart.

Edward tries not to look _too_ eager as he approaches the bathtub, taking Richard's hand and bending to kiss it before sitting on the stool vacated by one of the attendants. He wonders for a moment if Richard is trying to seduce him, despite the improbable timing. He rather hopes so. He can feel his face heat up, but the room _is_ more than warm enough for that to be an accident and not an obvious sign of the effect Richard's presence has on him even when he _isn't_ naked.

Richard grins and runs his wet hand through Edward's hair. "I wouldn't put it past those two to resort to wizardry," he says. "Well. Thomas, anyway. I suppose our noble cousin is far too _pious_ and _upright_ for that sort of thing." He grimaces and leans back against the side of the tub, and Edward swallows hard, his eyes following the line of Richard's throat as he tries not to think too much about doing the same with his tongue, or to look too far below the surface of the bathwater, or basically anything. "God," Richard says, after a moment, squeezing his eyes closed. "Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll kill each other."

"We can always hope, my lord," Edward says, smirking.

The cloth Richard's been using to wrap his hair is starting to slip off of his head; he opens his eyes, sits up, and adjusts it. Which is a little disappointing. "We can, indeed," he says.

Edward lowers his voice. "What will you do if Bolingbroke wins?"

Richard's face clouds over for a moment, and Edward fears he has taken a step too far. Richard's discomfort with their cousin has been palpable lately. Although his uncles might mutter behind his back about his refusal to listen to anything he doesn't want to hear, he's more than aware that the commons love Bolingbroke. And that he has a reputation for the sort of abstemious righteousness that the court lacks. Of course, Edward thinks, he probably _could_ attend on Richard in the bath (not that this would ever happen, but for the sake of argument) without his mind going… _places_. Unlike some people.

"He won't win," Richard says, and his mood has bounced back in a way that leaves Edward slightly dizzy, even more so when Richard, with a graceful flick of his wrist, sends a few drops of spicy-scented water into Edward's face. Edward can't resist a smile, at that, because he's now thinking of where that water has _been_ and how (to say nothing of _where_ ) it's been touching Richard and then he realizes he may actually be jealous of _bathwater_ and thus may be the most ridiculous person alive.

It's clear, at any rate, that Richard's bravado isn't altogether genuine; there's a certain tension in his neck and shoulders and dark circles under his eyes. Edward wonders if he's been sleeping. He's had trouble with it for some time (since Gloucester's death, as it happens, but it's better not to inquire about that). Edward wants, more than anything, to provide comfort and solace to him — but the kind of comfort he most wishes to give is not the kind he can offer; he must wait for Richard to ask it of him.

"Don't look so worried, Aumerle," Richard says, resting his hand on Edward's cheek for a moment before trailing a finger along his jawline, and Edward suddenly has to pay close attention to his breathing. "Trust me. I have a plan."

"But what if — "

Richard presses a finger to Edward's lips for a moment before rising from the bath. Edward's mouth falls open — and his hose tighten — as he stretches languidly, wet and naked. Richard unwraps the linen cloth from his hair, letting it fall about his shoulders and chest, and hands the cloth to Edward before gesturing towards a chair with a linen robe draped over it. Edward clutches the discarded cloth in front of himself as he fetches the robe, although a bitter little voice in the back of his mind remarks that it doesn't matter, Richard is clearly not going to notice anything, _ever_.

"I told you not to worry," Richard says, as Edward helps him into his robe. "God knows our work is just."

**Author's Note:**

> There's a porny continuation to this fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1359604). If you're into that sort of thing.


End file.
